


The Columbia Split

by originalanon



Category: BioShock Infinite
Genre: Feeding, Hand Feeding, Not Incest, Stuffing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-06 05:50:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13404789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/originalanon/pseuds/originalanon
Summary: “This is turning you on,” Rosalind said flatly, and Robert almost choked on the spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. He swallowed hard.“I- I beg your pardon?” he said, wiping his mouth with a cloth napkin.Rosalind gestured to his waist, where his stomach had pushed out enough to form a small belly that pressed against his undershirt and overlying vest. “This. Overeating. One might call it a fetish.”(In which Robert Lutece eats a lot of ice cream.)





	The Columbia Split

“Strawberry is decidedly superior.”

 

The man had a finger on his lip poignantly, staring down at his own reflection in the glass. “Hm. Perhaps not. Vanilla is a better choice,” he replied to the woman next to him. It was almost like his reflection had came to life and was standing next to him. To the uninformed (such as the clerk standing behind the cash register who had been watching them discuss for the past fifteen minutes,) the two of them were twins. However, in reality, it wasn't that simple.

 

“Well, why settle for just one flavor...” the woman trailed off.

 

“...when you can have all three,” the man finished. “Yes, we'll take all three flavors, please.”

 

The clerk, a middle aged man, raised an eyebrow at the two of them. “Will this be going on your tab, Madam Lutece?” he asked. The woman hesitated for a moment. Rosalind knew her tab was growing unreasonably large now that she was eating for two; not for a baby, but for her double who, though he shared the same intelligence as her, could not bring himself to work in this new reality he found himself in. Her latest research grant had not yet went through the bank, and she refused to take out another loan from the Bank of the Prophet knowing that the interest she'd pay back be going to Comstock as a tide. She gave a sideways glance to her brother.

 

Robert Lutece noticed how she was looking at him, and he gave a little sigh. “I suppose you want to put this on my tab,” he said. 

 

“Well, it  _ will _ be going on your waist,” Rosalind said slightly under her breath. 

 

This seemingly struck a nerve with her brother, whose cheeks grew a bit rosy. Rosalind was confused for a moment, but not all that surprised. Robert leaned towards a more...sentimental temperament compared to herself. Instead of looking solely at the cold hard facts, he'd occasionally give a more passionate (and one may argue, a more “human”) conclusion. But what then, Rosalind wondered, had triggered blushing in her double?

 

The clerk sighed. “Look, if you two are looking for free ice cream, we do have this contest running right now,” he said. “If you can finish the Columbia Split in a half an hour, you can wipe away your tab. As a bonus, you don't even have to pay for the split.”

 

Rosalind gave a glance to the wooden board hanging above the clerk's head. The Columbia Split was newly added, and it looked as formidable as it sounded. It was four extra large scoops of vanilla ice cream, covered in a small mountain of fresh whipped cream, surrounded by two bananas and a couple of strawberries. All of this was smothered in hot fudge and dripping with foolhardiness. “That can't be healthy,” she said flatly. “Come, brother, let's go. We can't afford it.”

 

“I accept,” Robert said confidently. The clerk straightened up a bit.

 

Rosalind's cool and calm facade broke for a moment. “Are you mental?” she asked. “You'd have to be if you think you can eat that whole thing!” she exclaimed.

 

Robert held a hand up to silence her. “I know what I'm doing,” he said, leaning forward on the counter a bit. “Now, you said I have an half-hour?” he asked.

 

The clerk hummed in agreement. “That's right, thirty minutes. If you leave the table for any reason, you lose and pay for the split. Same for if you upchuck. Sure you can handle it, fella?” he asked. 

 

The gentleman straightened the ends of his Edwardian suit jacket. “I'm sure. Please, let's begin,” he said. The clerk nodded and went through the double-doors behind the counter leading to the back room. The moment he was gone, Robert felt Rosalind lightly smack his shoulder.

 

“Good job. Now we're going to have even more on our tabs...” she said. Robert chuckled a little in his throat. Rosalind rolled her eyes. “What is it?”

 

“You. You doubt that I can finish it,” he said as he made his way over to one of the booths. He cleaned off the table just a bit before he sat down. “I'd would have hoped you would have more faith in me.”

 

“It's not faith you need, but a hollow leg. You'll be sick before you finish. The human stomach can hold just around a gallon of liquid, albeit rather uncomfortably. That split is easily a gallon and a half of milk and cream,” she replied.

 

Robert merely smiled at her from across the table. A few minutes passed of silent waiting, and finally the clerk came over with the absolute monster of a split. The sunlight coming through the windows of the ice cream parlor made the whole thing glisten as he sat it down in front of the male Lutece, who thanked the clerk. Rosalind, meanwhile, began examining it.

 

The Columbia Split sat in a large crystal bowl, and was indeed covered in a veritable mountain of whipped cream. Strawberries were placed around the sides of the bowl, and the two bananas were cut into halves that were placed in between each scoop of delicious vanilla ice cream, each one covered in hot fudge.

 

Rosalind averted her gaze from the bowl to her double, who was now staring at the sundae...almost lustfully? She watched as he picked up a spoon in anticipation. The clerk pulled out a golden pocket-watch from his apron. 

 

“Thirty minutes starts...” he hesitated, waiting for the second hand to reach the very top of the dial. “Now,” he said after a moment, then returned to the counter.

 

Robert wasn't quite sure where to start, so he started at the top. He scooped up a big spoonful of fluffy whipped cream, and quickly put it into his mouth. His eyes fluttered shut as he took in the flavor of the delightfully light cream. After a moment, though, he suddenly remembered that he had a time limit and quickly swallowed. He went in for another bite, not wasting any time by savoring the flavors.

 

Rosalind watched as he steadily made his way through the whipped cream. It was light enough to not fill up his stomach too much, but then again there was quite a bit of it. Rosalind decided to ponder on his intentions for a few moments. Why on Earth would he believe he'd be able to eat this whole thing? Why did he so wholeheartedly accept the challenge right away? Most importantly, why did he turn so red in the face when she said the ice cream would be going on his tab and his waist?

 

Her answer arrived to her in the form of a slight moan from Robert as he polished off a few of the strawberries. He was leaning back in the booth just a tad, and looked to be in a trance. The blush from earlier had returned to grace his cheeks, and he had a small smile on his lips. Rosalind could hardly believe what she was seeing, and, like any self-respecting person of science would do, she looked for other signs to confirm her hypothesis.

 

She craned her neck just a bit so she could see over the edge of the table, eyeing her double's lap. Indeed, the thin fabric of his trousers did little to hide his erection. Robert continued to eat, now starting on the ice cream itself, not noticing Rosalind inspecting him. 

 

“This is turning you on,” Rosalind said flatly, and Robert almost choked on the spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. He swallowed hard.

 

“I- I beg your pardon?” he said, wiping his mouth with a cloth napkin.

 

Rosalind gestured to his waist, where his stomach had pushed out enough to form a small belly that pressed against his undershirt and overlying vest. “This. Overeating. One might call it a fetish.”

 

Robert didn't respond, instead adverting gaze back to the ice cream. After another bite of ice cream (which sat heavily in his stomach; he was going to have to address that growing tightness in there soon,) he sighed through his nose and spoke up. “You've hit the nail on the head,” he said quietly, then muffled a little belch in his fist.

 

“As usual.” Rosalind crossed her arms, and watched as Robert continued to force the ice cream down, moving onto the bananas to switch up the flavor. She had heard of people becoming sexually aroused by gaining weight and/or stuffing themselves silly. Usually, it tapped into the arousal that came from being helpless, or from the guilt felt from eating so much. Sometimes, though, it was caused by the pressure a bloated stomach placed on one's sex organs. She wasn't sure which one affected Robert, but she could tell he was enjoying himself.

 

He had unbuttoned the vest under his suit jacket, and undid a few buttons on his undershirt, giving him just enough room to slip through and placed a cold hand on his stomach. It was bulging out somewhat noticeably now, and it looked like it was having a considerable effect on him. 

 

Robert was taking shorter breaths, and it was getting increasingly harder to swallow. His body was starting to reject the taste of the vanilla ice cream, and he was running out of fruit to cleanse his palate. He popped a whole strawberry into his mouth, and a soft groan escaped him. He was thankful the parlor was deserted, or else he'd be dying trying to hold in his sounds. Robert's ears had became hyperaware earlier of the ticking of the clock on the other side of the parlor earlier, but the pain that was starting to radiate from his belly had drowned out all his other senses. He reckoned he had about...fifteen minutes left, and about a third of the ice cream left. Plenty of time to leisurely eat and--

 

“Ten minutes left,” the clerk called. Robert paled. There was no way he could get through this now. His stomach was getting tight, and each bite just added to the pressure. He had finished the bananas, and decided to ration out the last few strawberries in between the rest of the ice cream. He had to pick up the pace, but he wasn't sure how he was going to accomplish that. His thoughts were clouded not only by the stretching pain from his stomach, but also by the throbbing of his cock. He shifted in his seat, and sighed.

 

Suddenly, there was a spoon in front of his face, containing a big scoop of ice cream. Rosalind was staring at him from the other end, looking frustrated. “You finish this or I will personally kick you off the edge of Columbia myself for racking up my tab even higher,” she said threateningly.

 

Robert didn't know how to respond, or even if he should, and so he took the spoon in his mouth and swallowed its contents. He didn't question it when she fed him another spoonful. 

 

Thus began Rosalind spoon-feeding her double a stupid amount of ice cream that he had brought upon himself. Robert, meanwhile, had both hands on the sides of his stomach, which was now pulling at the buttons of his undershirt. They both heard the clerk inform them they had five minutes left, and Rosalind took appropriate action. There was about a half of a scoop left in the bowl, as well as all the hot fudge that had been sitting at the bottom. Rosalind tested it with a spoon, and found that the fudge had softened the ice cream enough to make it into more of a soup. An idea struck her.

 

Robert had closed his eyes for a moment to try and let his mind catch up to what his body was feeling, when he suddenly felt something cold and hard press against his lips. His eyes shot open, and he found himself looking at Rosalind through a murky white glass. She had brought the bowl up to his lips and was tripping it up, allowing all its contents to rush directly into his mouth. 

 

Robert breathed in sharply through his nose in surprise, but quickly drank down what was left. When the last drop of the split was down his throat, Rosalind slammed the bowl down with enough force to cause Robert to jump. This jostled a small and pained burp out of him, and he closed his eyes as he threw his head back against the back of the booth.

 

“Time,” the clerk said finally. He came over, inspected the bowl, then under the table, perhaps to make sure they hadn't dumped the ice cream under there. The clerk smiled. “Well, I have to admit. I'm impressed. I didn't think ya' had the room in ya', fella,” he said, patting Robert on the back. The gentleman winced in pain, and swallowed the nausea building inside of him.

 

“Just...clear Madam Lutece's tab, please...” Robert managed to get out, much to Rosalind's surprise. 

 

“Wait, are you serious? Are you sure you don't want to clear--”

 

“Just do it,” Robert said, interrupting the clerk. The clerk shrugged, then went over to counter once again. “Consider it done,” he said as he left, taking the bowl with him.

 

Rosalind stood up from the booth, and adjusted her skirt. “I suppose I should thank you,” she said as she offered Robert a hand. He took it, and slowly stood up. He winced as this forced his back straight, and his stomach to press out even further. It was a considerable little dome now, a testament to his gluttony.

 

“Don't mention it,” he said, resting a hand under his stomach. It was so  _ heavy _ , despite being filled with cream and fruit. 

 

Rosalind held the door for them as they exited the parlor and made their way down the street. Thankfully, it wasn't too crowded outside. They turned a corner, and began to make their way down a deserted street. 

 

“Alright,” Rosalind said, then looked over to eye her double's stomach. It looked like a ripe little melon, and she couldn't stop herself from giving it a tentative poke. There was little to no give in the skin. 

 

Robert groaned. “Don't...don't do that...” he warned. He was stuffed to the gills, and he was positive that if he didn't get home soon and lay down, someone would be cleaning him off the front of whatever building he happened to be in front of.

 

She chuckled. “It's like a balloon that's about to burst. Watch out for sharp corners,” she said with a little smile.

 

“I'll watch out...” he said, panting with his tongue sticking out just a little bit. In truth, he probably wouldn't be too vigilant. He had other things on his mind, like how all this cream was going to seriously dent his waistline. He didn't mind the thought of filling out just a little bit, but getting fitted  for another suit was always so dreadful.

  
_ Well, _ he thought,  _ at least I can treat myself to ice cream afterwards. On Rosalind's tab, of course. _

**Author's Note:**

> My first AO3 fic!


End file.
